


open up my eager eyes

by distractionpie



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, For the shallowest of reasons, M/M, Mob boss!Speirs, Multi, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Threesome - M/M/M, under-negotiated sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 22:46:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13258200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distractionpie/pseuds/distractionpie
Summary: Ron likes to keep thinks simple. He doesn't mix business and pleasure.David is a convenient source of entertainment and an asset.Liebgott is... distracting.In which Ron and David are meeting each others needs, but when David's eyes start to wander towards Liebgott the change might mean something more than any of them were anticipating.





	open up my eager eyes

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sitting on this for a while because it was supposed to be a shallow pwp snippet to play with that i wasn't even thinking about posting, but somehow it turned out four times as long and with a whole lot more going on than I'd expected at the outset...
> 
> Title from Mr. Brightside by The Killers  
>  
> 
> **Warning: There is a sex scene in this fic that occurs without clear discussion of consent between characters who have a relationship of unequal power. I've chosen not to tag the fic as dub-con because I envision all of the action in the scene as consensual; however given the lack of discussed consent and the limitations of writing only from one character's pov, I felt it would be remiss not to acknowledge that certain readers may interpret the text differently and should proceed with caution.**
> 
> ———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Ron lets himself into David’s apartment and locks the door behind him with a firm click before dropping his coat and scarf on the couch in the entryway but leaving his gloves on. He hardly had to worry about leaving fingerprints here, but rules were easier to keep if one avoided exceptions which might lead to carelessness.

He can hear music playing from the kitchen, pushes the door open to find David has discarded his jacket and stands over the stove in just his vest and shirt with his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, paging through a cookbook. It’s a sweet, domestic scene and on a different day Ron might have joined him in the kitchen to taste test and flirt but after what he saw earlier that day that’s not what he wants.

He strides across the room, pulls David away from the stove and then wraps one hand around the back of his neck and pushes him down until his torso is pressed against the counter. It’s rough and hasty, but if David wanted tender then he shouldn’t have let himself get spotted batting his lashes at one of Ron’s men.

“You’re back early,” David says, twisting until he can glance over his shoulder at Ron. “Turn the stove off would you, before the sauce burns.”

It’s not the greeting Ron wants, but he reaches over to flick the heat off before he grabs the knife from the counter, the tension in his jaw loosening just a little at David’s easy manner and the way he spreads his legs with any flinch of fear or guilt. There’s trust in David’s lack of resistance to being pinned by Ron’s palm, and the absence of concern assures Ron that no matter where his boy’s eyes and mind might have been wandering David hasn’t actually strayed.

The blade is razor sharp, its grip fitting perfectly in his palm. Ron might not live here but his tastes still show in the decorating and the place is kept up to his standards so when he flicks the tip against the seam of David’s trousers, it slices a long clean part in the custom-tailored wool and the silken layer beneath. Then he tosses the knife away so he can rip the fabric open far enough to grasp the thick curve of David’s ass in his palms.

David lets slip the smallest of irritated huffs at the destruction of his clothes but doesn’t complain. They’ve been at this long enough that they both know Ron will have some suitable replacement delivered to his doorstep by midday tomorrow - and of course a little present to make up for his trouble. It’s a familiar routine. In the highly unlikely event somebody managed to get through his security and access Ron’s personal laptop, they’d find a folder tucked away in his bookmarks of all of the things which he plans to spoil David with and the garments Ron fantasizes about tearing off of him, hundred dollar scraps of silk and lace, pretty things for his pretty boy.

The rough brush of leather brings up goose bumps on David’s skin as Ron kneads his cheeks, savouring David’s shiver of anticipation, and then pushes them apart to reveal what he’s truly interested in.

David is a beauty, most of his skin is a light but perfectly even tan from the hours spent in the private rooftop pool which had been the deciding factor when Ron was picking which apartment to gift to him, but here that fades to pale rose pink flesh that twitches invitingly when Ron slides a gloved fingertip over the tight clench of his hole.

It’s evident he’s been too caught up in his work lately, it’s been days since he’d been any sort of intimate with David and longer still since he’s been able to be thorough about it. With that in mind it’s not such a wonder he hadn’t noticed the seeds of today’s little display being sown, when he’s so evidently failed to be sufficiently attentive to the personal side of his business. David drifted towards trouble when he was bored, getting his thrills from pressing up against the edges of violence and danger if he wasn’t kept sated elsewhere -- it was how he’d stumbled into Ron’s path in the first place.

“Did you enjoy your little visit this morning?” Ron says, reaching over to rifle through the kitchen drawer for lube.

“You know how I admire your work,” David replies. “But I’d have enjoyed it more if I’d actually got to see you.”

“I’m sorry I was busy,” he says, and it was true. His work came before David, his men depended on him being sharp and focused; but perhaps if he’d pulled the boy into his office and bent him over the desk for a while like he was pretty sure David had been hoping for when he’d decided to visit, then Ron wouldn’t have finally looked up from his reports to find David making eyes at Liebgott instead.

“You work too hard,” David complains, but Ron is more interested in the squelch of lube against his gloved fingers as he works the first one in to the knuckle. David is desperately tight and Ron becomes suddenly hyper-aware of how long it’s been since he’s been able to unwind this way. He’d told himself if it had been something less important he might have put David on his knees under Ron’s desk and kept that pretty mouth occupied while he worked but that today’s task hadn’t allowed for distraction, but the truth is lately everything has felt busy and important and he’s been letting the job make more demands of him than it ought to.

David arches as Ron scissors his fingers with the ease of practise. He could add a third but he wants David feeling this tomorrow, wants to see the hitch in his step as he walks as a constant reminder of Ron’s claim and wants everybody else to see it too.

“Fuck me,” David gasps, ass clenched so tight that even through his gloves Ron can feel the heat of him as he rolls his hips to fuck himself on Ron’s fingers, body begging just as eagerly as his mouth for more. It’s beautiful, but he’s still not said the one thing Ron wants to hear.

“You want it?” Ron asks, crooking his fingers just so.

“I need it.” David shifts to demanding with such ease. Ron has spoiled him, and normally he’d would give in at that petulant tone, savour the pleasure of sweetening the boy up again but instead he keeps driving in with two fingers, knowing it’s just enough to drive David crazy but never to satisfy.

He watches the way the muscles of David’s back ripple as the flush slowly spreads from his neck down his shoulders and then he gives a breathless whine, “Ron...”

 _Finally_. The word he’s been waiting for, the assurance there’s nobody else on David’s mind as he does this.

He opens his slacks with his free hand before he withdraws his fingers, not giving David a moment to process the change before he’s thrusting into that clutching heat.

This was what David was meant for. He could play all he liked at journalism, Ron appreciated the fact it kept him busy and mostly out of trouble, but it would never be his calling. David was a hedonist, meant for sensation and sin, and Ron was only too happy to take care of him.

For several long moments Ron is still, savouring the immediate rush of pleasure, the feeling he’d denied himself for so long, and content to have David squirming impatiently beneath him. It’s tempting to drag it out, keep him trapped between Ron’s body and the counter, helplessly chasing more, but the events of that morning can hardly go unacknowledged.

He wraps an arm around David, pulling him back until he’s held against Ron’s chest and taking Ron as deep as he can go, before whispering in his ear, “I see the way you look at him.”

“Look at who?” David says, distracted and Ron tightens his grip until it’s bruisingly hard, makes sure David’s attention is on Ron’s words not his cock before he speaks.

“Liebgott. You want him.”

David doesn’t deny it, brave boy. That had always been half his appeal, how he knew exactly what Ron was, what he did, and yet held no fear of him. He’d investigated Ron’s crimes and been drawn to his strength, had seen the danger and thought him a useful ally and been willing to make himself useful in turn, spinning alibis and selling stories which shifted people’s focus to Ron’s enemies. That he clenches so tight around Ron’s cock as he rocks his soft ass eagerly between Ron’s hips is just a perk.  “Liebgott’s not fucking me,” he equivocates.

“Of course not,” Ron agrees, “You’d never betray me like that.” Liebgott he’s less sure of, Ron suspects there wasn’t much that man wouldn’t do if he thought he could get away with it. He had a ruthless streak Ron could admire were it not for the lingering doubt the man might turn on him. “But you’ve thought about it.”

“H-have I?” David’s a decent liar when he can focus on what he’s doing, but with Ron rocking his hips just enough to tease the pretence is shabby and David must know it because he continues boldly, “Haven’t you?”

And it’s true; it’s not that Ron doesn’t understand why David’s eyes might have chosen that way to wander. Liebgott is striking -- but he was also a killer long before Ron’s takeover and if he weren’t so good at it maybe Ron would think it a shame he’d never been in a position to be taken into Ron’s bed but Liebgott is one of his men and Ron doesn’t fuck his men. It’s bad business.

“He works for me,” Ron points out. “And he’s a soldier... he gets his hands dirty, gets them bloody David.” David has reported on enough of their crime scenes to know how Ron’s men operate, but they’ve never the same by the time the blood has dried and the bodies have been claimed by the coroners so the reporters can be let in. No one could really understand without seeing them in action. “Do you want those hands on you after what he’s done with them? He’s dangerous...”

“You’re dangerous,” David groans, turning his head to nip at Ron’s mouth. “I _like_ dangerous.”

“I’d never hurt you,” Ron reminds him, digging his fingers into David’s thigh, pressing until he knows tomorrow his claim will be written in bruises over the soft skin. “Not more than you want.” He’d never need to - David would never give him a reason. “Are you sure you can say the same of him?” For all his crimes Ron also has limits --there are vices he won’t tolerate from his men, sins he’d kill them himself for-- but those restraints don’t stop them from being vicious and dangerous and Liebgott is shamelessly volatile in the field.

“I’ve known him nearly as long as I’ve known you,” David pants out, and there’s a hint of genuine perplexity in his voice at the line of questioning. “He’s always been a perfect gentleman.”

Those aren’t words of idle lust. Ron knows David mixes with his men sometimes and he’s never minded their stares or the crass talk, Ron knew it would happen when he chose to flaunt his boy in all of his finery, but Ron’s men know what would happen if they didn’t keep their hands to themselves. Anyway, he’s seen the way David handles his high-society social circle and anybody foolish enough to try their luck with him there has always been put firmly back in their place without the need for outside intervention, something Ron had assumed would be repeated should any of his men chance something stupid.

Now he’s not so sure.

How many times has David sought out Ron only to be turned away in favour of work? It was hardly uncommon. And how many of those times had ended with Liebgott offering an alternative kind of companionship for David to speak of him with such fondness and familiarity?

He won’t get answers like this though, not when David is distracted and Ron is hardly in a much better position to interrogate him efficiently, and so he shifts his grip, sets the issue of Liebgott aside, and fucks David until there isn’t a single thought in his head, let alone thoughts of another.

*

For a time Ron tries to set his concerns aside, but such things once discovered are not easily forgotten, and now he knows to be on the lookout for something between David and Liebgott he sees how much he has missed.

He’d thought their encounters must have been chance things, paths crossing incidentally while Liebgott is working and David is at the offices to visit Ron, but once he begins to watch more closely he is quickly proven wrong.

David arrives at the offices and doesn’t even ask after Ron, finds excuses to linger in the halls and wait for Liebgott to pass by. His flirtations are almost amusing, an uncharacteristically coy game in which he contrives ways to fix Liebgott’s attention upon him without ever outright admitting his own interest. In turn, Liebgott plays the role David offers him, offering his chivalrous assistance in directing David through corridors he’s traversed a hundred times before or in lifting something that David had easily carried while he was seeking Liebgott out, never presuming to ask for anything but offering everything in a surreal imitation of courtly love.

It’s quite the show as Ron watches it play out on the security cameras he has secreted through the offices. If he hadn’t known them, hadn’t seen what Liebgott could do with a knife and what David looked like on his knees, it might almost have been sweet, their hesitation mistakable for innocence.

Ron waits for it to pass, expects now David knows Ron is aware of his infatuation things will simmer down but, if anything, he grows bolder. When he spots the camera beside the loading bay and makes eye contact with the lens the whole time he’s ‘accidentally’ tipping his glass of water over Liebgott and then using his pocket square like a handkerchief to try and clean up the spill --putting his hands all over Liebgott in the process-- Ron realises he’s misread this. David’s reactions are not those of somebody who has been caught in something secret and forbidden. He’s intent on Liebgott and wants Ron to know it.

This is something he is going to need to factor into his plans for David. As pleasing an entertainment as the boy is, Ron has no illusions about his own proclivities: theirs is a relationship built on admiration but he’s never hidden the fact his work will always come first, nor that he didn’t intend on keeping David in his bed forever. Of course, he’s not the kind of man to use David up and discard him. Ron had always planned on ensuring his boy was appropriately taken care of and remained an asset even when they were through, although that eventuality had still seemed distant enough that Ron hadn’t settled on all of the details of how. Perhaps now he had his way. If this infatuation with Liebgott was developed it would be as good as any a way to ensure David’s loyalty was maintained when Ron’s attentions moved elsewhere. Still, it was a matter to be handled with precision.

*

Liebgott might accept David’s flirtation and his casual touches, but, at least in Ron’s view, he never initiates, never so presumptuous as to lay his hands on Ron’s boy, but Ron isn’t sure how long that restraint will last in the face of David’s campaign of seduction.

It’s time to retake control of the situation.

Welsh has taken a leave of absence to celebrate his first child and so Ron has Liebgott pick up the slack and then some, calling him in at all hours and sending him off on errands that are far outside of his usual domain, watching to see how he handles the increased pressure.

Ron’s not wholly surprised when he rises to the challenge with gusto. He’s always known Liebgott was skilled, but when Ron had pushed him into his current role Liebgott’s general attitude had suggested somebody fundamentally unsuited to the more delicate elements of the business. It seems he’d grown up, the anger is still there but at some point in the years since Ron’s takeover he’s learned to harness and direct it, and Ron would be remiss not to take the fullest advantage of the skills he’d developed. Anyway, David has expensive taste and no amount of affection changes the fact Liebgott could never keep him satisfied on a soldier's cut, and there was only so long Ron could keep overworking Liebgott without giving him the promotion to match.

“A captain now,” Ron murmurs, next time David’s pretty mouth is wrapped around his cock. “Your darling could win you yet.”

David moans and the vibration tips Ron over the edge, his fingers twisting in dark curls until David’s moan turns to a whine.

When he pulls off, he looks up at Ron with wide eyes. “You’d accept that?” he asks, reminding Ron of his innocence. He might be close, but he’s still so sheltered from the realities of Ron’s operation. “You’d give me up?”

“You’ll always be mine,” Ron says, reaching down and running his thumb over the soft swell of David’s lower lip, wiping up a few stray drops of cum which David hadn’t managed to swallow and then pressing the digit between the boy’s lips for him to lick clean. “So will he. So will everyone who has ties to this organisation, one day this whole city will be mine.”

“Don’t prevaricate,” David says, tone sharper than most people dare to use with Ron.

“You know I treat my people well,” Ron reminds him, pulling him to his feet. “Remember where you got that suit you’re wearing from, who gave you your apartment, your laptop, your phone. Don’t I take good care of you? Think of all the tips that get you scoops before any other reporter in the city. I’d give you anything you wanted unless I thought it was bad for you or for business.”

“Even him?” There’s hope in David’s eyes, more than a passing whim would inspire, and Ron wonders exactly how deep his fascination runs. Liebgott had shown an interest certainly, but if David felt something deeper and Liebgott was merely curious or lustful then this whole thing could backfire badly.

“Do you really think pursuing this will end advantageously?” he asks. David has more opportunities to closely judge Liebgott’s intentions, but his judgement on the matter was also quite possibly impaired by infatuation.

“Are you saying you think Joe is bad for me?” David asks, confusion marring his features. “No, you just promoted him...”

Ron frowns. It wouldn’t do to admit his uncertainties about Liebgott, he can drop his guard a little with David, who has different expectations of him than most of his men, but suggesting he has anything other than perfect control over his organisation would be admitting a level of weakness he’d show to no-one. “Liebgott wants you,” he says instead. “Covets you, even though you’re mine. He hasn’t been openly disrespectful yet, but he certainly hasn’t earned a seat at my table, let alone...”

“You want him to earn me?” David interjects, a hint of scepticism to his laugh.

“Only the best of what I have for you,” Ron promises, guiding him towards the bed. “You want him? Well, if Liebgott can prove himself then he’s yours. You’ll both still be mine, but it doesn’t have to be like this if he’s what you want.”

David smiles. “Oh, I think it could still be like this sometimes,” he suggests, “You and him would be...”

Ron laughs at the dreamy look which clouds his boy’s eyes. It was a good thing it had been Ron’s crime scene David had stumbled onto that night all that time ago, had somebody less of a gentleman found him as he strayed from the shallows of petty corruption and the interpersonal blackmail of the upper classes and plunged into the realm of serious crime David’s tendency to keep his head half in the clouds might have got him in real trouble. He was a potential witness and the easy choice would have been to eradicate him, instead Ron had cultivated him and reaped the rewards near nightly.

“He’s not here now,” Ron reminds him, with a light slap to the cheek which brings David back to earth, pinking his fair skin charmingly in the process. “So forget him.”

“Make me,” David taunts, and Ron tosses him to the sheets and does exactly that.

*

Soon enough the time comes that Ron must close the deal or come up with a new strategy. David has been uncharacteristically patient, even dialling back his attempts to coax a lapse in judgement out of Liebgott once Ron makes it clear he had a plan that would give his boy what he wanted just so long as he let it happen on Ron’s terms and Liebgott was... co-operative.

First though, comes the problem of the Russians, ostensibly allies but causing Ron all sorts of trouble lately.

He can’t deal with them directly, not when the local leadership are out of town, to meet personally with the lackeys they have running things would be to debase himself and the other players in the area would see weakness in Ron lowering himself to deal with other people’s underlings. Nevertheless, this isn’t something he can pass off to just anyone. The job is dangerous, will require somebody who can match wits with their competitors and come out ahead, who will be ruthless enough to put the Russians back in their place and leave them clear on the consequences of thinking they could oppose Ron, but also somebody who can handle things with enough finesse that they won’t turn the Russians into an outright enemy.

Liebgott is hardly the obvious pick for the job.

Ron gives it to him anyway.

When he lays out his orders Liebgott listens, sharp and attentive, and accepts the command without question or hesitation, commits to seeing it done within the week.

When he mentions to David that night what he has Liebgott working on there is a brief moment in which Ron sincerely believes he is about to be struck. He hadn’t anticipated the anger writ clear on David’s face. His eyes had often reminded Ron of the ocean, and right now Ron is suddenly reminded that even the warmest waters could be deadly in a storm. David’s voice is colder than Ron has ever heard as he says, “How could you?”

“Since when do you pass judgement on how I manage my business?” Ron says, meeting David’s disrespect with equal frigidity. “Do you think I ought to have done different?”

“They’ll kill him,” David says, voice wavering slightly, and Ron realises with a jolt that David believes himself betrayed.

“If I wanted him dead, I’d execute him myself,” Ron promises, half mollified by the knowledge that David wasn’t questioning how he ran his organisation, half stung by the lapse in trust. He knows of rivals who’ll dispose of men who’ve fallen out of favour by setting them up to fail, but that has never been Ron’s way. It would make all of his men have less faith in him, if they never knew if he was giving them a job in anticipation of their success or intentionally sending them to their deaths. Anyway, if he were trying to get rid of Liebgott as a potential threat, Ron would want to look him in the eye as he killed him.

“Swear it,” David commands, suddenly fierce. This tumult couldn’t stem from even the most passionate of lusts, the emotion laid bare by David’s shock is nothing less than love.

It unnerves Ron.

He’d thought Liebgott could be as amused by David as he was, but love is an entirely different matter and far outside of Ron’s expertise. If the feeling isn’t reciprocated maybe it would be better off not to take the risk, but David would never see it that way and his look of betrayal wounded Ron deeply enough that he cannot risk appearing to go back on his word again.

“I swear it,” he says, extending to David the same seriousness and respect he normally reserves for the trusted men under his command. “I wouldn’t have set him the task if I didn’t believe him equal to it.”

David nods, but he still looks rattled. Ron considers that perhaps the boy hadn’t realised the depth of his own feelings until he’d thought their subject endangered. He extends an arm only slightly, but David falls into the embrace at the first hint it is being offered, his doubt in Ron has passed as quickly as it befell him, baseless as it was. Ron’s personal interests would never rule him so strongly that he’d endanger his business or his men by placing the negotiations in the hands of somebody unqualified to conduct them. Nor is he cruel. “He will not fail,” Ron promises, one hand slipping into David’s curls to sooth him the most reliable way Ron knows.

*

Liebgott stays out all that night and the next, and Ron can see David fraying with worry despite the fact he’s been on the fringes of the business long enough to know that’s just how things go sometimes. Ron does his best to keep him distracted but when Liebgott stalks back into the offices --smelling of blood and smoke with a bloodstain on his collar, but also with all the men he left with and no serious injuries to report-- Ron indulges and sends the boy a message to let him know that he can cease his fretting.

The report Liebgott gives is mostly cursory, though he lapses into talking like he’s pitching an action movie as he recounts some of the more... energetic parts of how he’d convinced the Russians to not only back off but to make a few more concessions than Ron had thought likely. It’s not how he’d have handled it, but it’s admirable work nevertheless. He prefers to keep the aggression to the realm of business, but this seems an appropriate exception.  Ron doesn’t let any of that show on his face though, remains impassive as Liebgott wraps up his tale and dismisses him without acknowledging any of what he’s just achieved.

Other men have been doing good work for him too, although none of them had been given their tasks with the ulterior motive which has come to rule Ron’s management of Liebgott, and it’s been awhile since he’s held a meeting of the various branches of his organisation.

*

Big meetings don't happen often.  

All of his top men together in one room presents more of a target than Ron is in the habit of offering to his enemies. Sometimes they are useful though, and that's when Ron calls caterers and makes a grand affair of it.

It does his people good to experience business linked with pleasure; to feel they're being praised; and, most importantly, to flaunt among themselves the perceived status they drew from being invited and therefore a recipient of Ron's admiration.

Liebgott had never had the seniority to merit an invite to one of these little get-togethers before, but Ron was certain he'd pick up the rhythms soon enough.  

A significant proportion of those at the meeting were the old guard, those who had been employed by Ron's predecessor or even his predecessor's predecessor, and it was necessary to keep their egos adequately plumped lest they take up foolish notions of dismissing Ron as an inexperienced upstart simply because they were, to a man, old enough to be his his father, and some his grandfather. It was a fine balance to strike, showing respect for their age and experience while making certain to affirm in their minds that he was the ultimate authority.  

Once he'd dealt with the most dangerous of the room's occupants it was time to deal with the up-and-comers. Young men, and the occasional woman, who had done good work for him and were progressing up the organisational ladder, who now had the chance to see what the future held for them, and be introduced into the company of those who they might work with if they continued to perform so well and received commendation for the work they’d done so far.

All except Liebgott.

A few tricks with the seating chart, a few whispers in discrete and unquestioning ears, and Liebgott had been isolated. Present for praise and promotion his peers were receiving, which he had rightfully earned a share of; but shunted to one side where he could only observe the festivities and see what he was being deprived of.

An undeniable and public snub.

Ron feels the smallest flicker of regret it has to be this way, but if the evening goes as planned Liebgott will get his reward in time, and if it doesn’t... well Ron has ways of dealing with that too.

Ron never stays until the end of these things, his people need a chance to unwind without their leader present and the only acknowledgement he allows Liebgott is immediately before his departure when Ron pulls him aside and orders, “My office, in fifteen minutes,” in a tone that makes the less experienced eavesdroppers glance nervously in their direction.

The final step of his plan is in motion.

*

Fifteen minutes is perhaps over generous, but Ron always prefers to wait than to be rushed.

David, conversely, grumbles with impatience, but then he had already waited some time alone in the office for Ron to leave the party. He’s a little tall to fit comfortably in Ron’s lap but that’s never stopped him settling there, nor would Ron allow it to. Now he reclines his head against Ron’s shoulders, resting against his chest with his thighs hooked over the outside of Ron’s and spread wide.

Ron hasn't shown David off as much as some of his past lovers, the boy surprisingly shy at the idea of having Ron's men as an audience but he's not bashful at the prospect of Liebgott watching them. Quite the opposite. His arousal isn’t visible through his suit yet, but when Ron cups him through the linen he can feel David’s anticipation and the way his cock twitches when Ron calls Liebgott’s name to summon the man into his office from where the security cameras show he’s been pacing outside the door for five minutes.

Ron shushes David. they’ve already talked everything over, this is between him and Liebgott now.

The door opens soundlessly, and Liebgott steps in with his head held high and an impassive expression.

“You wanted to see me sir?” he asks, eyes widening ever so slightly and flickering between Ron’s face and David before his lips thin and he fixes his gaze firmly on Ron’s face.

“You’ve worked for me for three years now, Liebgott,” Ron observes, “And you’ve been with this organisation since shortly after my predecessor’s takeover.” A more than respectable length of service, especially for his age.

Liebgott nods slowly, looking deeply suspicious at the line of discussion.

David isn’t holding back his soft sighs as Ron pets his hair, the other hand sliding down his chest to work open the buttons of David’s shirt as he talks. “You’ve been dealing with things much bigger than keeping an eye on our shipments lately. Doing some interesting work.”

Liebgott has no gun but that doesn't mean no options. A glance around the room reveals a dozen potential weapons - if Ron were in his position he’d pick the lamp or the letter opener, efficient and with the least risk of accidental injury to David, but Liebgott has always show a creative streak which makes him as unpredictable as he is effective.

“With the Russians? I did as you ordered, sir,” Liebgott says bluntly.

“Where do you see yourself in five years?”

“Where do I...?” Liebgott makes a face like a startled trout.  “What?”

“Where do you see yourself in five years?” Ron repeats. He doesn’t usually play guidance counsellor for his men but it’s as good a way as any to commence this discussion. “My predecessor underutilised you and let your development stagnate, but you are much improved lately, and I find myself wondering what use you plan on putting those skills to.”

Liebgott is rightly suspicious as he answers, “Whatever you tell me to, I suppose.”

Ron smiles. His aim may be to test Liebgott but that doesn't mean he can’t enjoy the way David rocks in his lap, how he surrenders to Ron’s hands displaying him as Ron talks. His only regret is that he hadn’t talked David into this sooner. “But I’m not the only person interested in your skills, am I?”

“Sir?”

“I know other people have approached you Liebgott. Offered you bigger cuts of any job, promised you all the booze you can drink and all the whores you can fuck, if you betrayed me.” He doesn’t have any specific evidence of this, but he doesn’t need it. Such seduction attempts were a part of the business, although not one Ron practises often since any man who can be bribed into betraying their employer to him would certainly betray him to another for the right price.

Liebgott shifts his stance, it’s subtle but Ron has been in this business a long time and he notices small tells. Liebgott is bracing for a fight. “People say a lot of shit, sir.”

“They do,” Ron smiles, but Liebgott’s too sharp to drop his guard just for that. “But some of them could back it up. So why not take the better offer?”

“I’m loyal,” Liebgott says, his voice is firm but his eyes betray him when they flicker momentarily to David.

Liebgott doesn’t want the money or the whores, but that doesn’t make him Ron’s and so Ron presses on the weakness he’s seen. “And to whom does your loyalty belong?”

“To you.”

“Really?” Ron dips his hand back down between David’s legs, grasping the swell of him, so David arches against him and moans openly.

“Yes. Sir.”

“You’d never betray me? Never make deals with my enemies to take from me? There’s plenty of information you have that they’d like. You certainly had a lot to say about Peacock’s leadership.” Liebgott had been quick to defy the man’s authority when Ron had them working together six months ago, and while it was the right call at the time it could be dangerous if he turned so fast under other circumstances. Ron brushes his lips against David’s neck, and David obediently tips his head, baring his throat.

“I might not be a kiss-ass like some of the bottom floor idiots out there and I ain’t gonna roll over and be killed because some guy who only got his job because his whole family pulls strings in this business doesn’t know his ass from his elbow. He might have run a few jobs but he ain’t the boss of this business, you are, and I’m yours sir.”

His.  Ron isn’t used to letting his control slip but at the sound of that he let his teeth sink a little deeper into David’s neck, David’s voice hitching as he gasps out Ron’s name. They should both be his.

When Ron looks back at him Liebgott’s eyes are filled with jealous rage, his fists curled white-knuckle tight, almost shaking. The clock ticks and Ron waits for him to snap, but Liebgott holds back, loyal as much as he's unhappy in the face of Ron’s final test.

It seems Ron needn’t have doubted him.

“Liebgott.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Kiss me,” he orders. As a show of loyalty it’s antiquated, not something he makes a habit of demanding of his men, but Liebgott doesn’t hesitate to step around the desk, crowding into Ron’s space. Liebgott kisses hard, although it’s Ron who brings the teeth, spilling Liebgott’s blood as is his right. Liebgott presses back, unflinching, and David rests pliant between them.

Ron drags out the kiss, noting the lack of alcohol on Liebgott’s breath despite the party with idle interest, doesn’t break away until he’s had his fill.

“David,” he says, and the boy’s eyes flutter open, darting towards Liebgott before he finds Ron’s face. Normally Ron would be angry at David’s attention going to anyone other than him, but these circumstances are special. “Tell him what you want, what you’ve been waiting for.”

“I want you Joe,” David says, barely above a whisper, but his voice steadies to a demand as he adds. “Touch me.”

“Sir?” the way Liebgott’s eyes dart to him, seeking permission, assures Ron of his decision.

“Don’t keep him waiting Liebgott,” Ron orders, and Liebgott bites his lip, eyes going wide with surprise, before he pulls off his gloves.

His hands are pale beneath the black leather, his fingers soft and clean as he reaches out, brushing over David’s cheek as if he’s made of the most fragile porcelain. He looks almost vulnerable as he leans in and the kiss, when it comes, is sweet and chaste. Ron can feel David’s reaction, the delicate shiver he gives as his patience is finally rewarded and as they kiss Ron realises he may have misjudged the depths of Liebgott’s intentions, there’s a tenderness between them he wouldn’t have suspected Liebgott of possessing.

Ron captures David’s trembling hand, soothing him through the shock of his much dreamed about fantasy finally coming to fruition, and lets them tarry in this moment.

After a small eternity they part, David chasing Liebgott’s lips with his own while Liebgott looks to Ron as if in search of approval. Ron nods, how can he not? Liebgott is responding even better than he’d hoped for and Ron smiles at the sight of him surging in for another kiss, a little more urgent this time, a hint of hunger revealing itself which David matches voraciously. After a few minutes Liebgott grows bold, abandoning David’s lips for his jaw then following the line of David’s throat until he reaches the marks, some red and fresh, other faded and purple, which adorn his collarbones. Those are Ron's marks, a reminder to Liebgott and to David just who they both serve, who they belong to. He wonders for a moment how Liebgott will react to them, but when he presses his mouth against the bruises it's not with a challenging bite but with a reverence which stirs something unexpected in Ron.

Liebgott lingers a while, lavishing attention on Ron’s marks and then slowly drifting lower, glancing once or twice up as if unsure how far he is permitted to go but when neither of them stop him he kisses his way down David’s chest, dropping to his knees between their legs.

“I could be so good to you,” he promises David, then his eyes shift to Ron. “Let me take care of him sir.”

Initiative had always been one of Liebgott’s strengths and Ron sees no reason to discourage him now. “Show me,” he agrees.

Liebgott unzips David’s fly almost torturously slowly but Ron relishes the way his teeth catch around his lower lip at the first glimpse of dove grey lace, splitting the cut Ron had bitten there right back open. It was nice to have his good taste appreciated.

Liebgott is careful as he slips David free of his confines, though Ron can feel the way David is tense with the effort of not fucking into his grip, and begins exploring the shaft with coy, kittenish licks until David whines out his name and, with a flicker of wickedness in his eyes, Liebgott finally takes him between his lips.

The sound David makes, a cry of both wonder and desperation, heats Ron’s blood but what makes his breath catch and his own cock stirs at the sight of Liebgott’s dark head bobbing between their legs, despite the incongruity of not feeling his touch. The thought of Liebgott’s smart mouth, no longer smirking in unvoiced defiance but wrapped so beautifully around him flits across Ron’s mind before he can stop it. That’s not what he set this up for though, this is not about him.

Still, he gives in to the urge tangle one hand in Joe’s hair, guiding him as David claws at the arm Ron still has wrapped around him.

He rests his hand there for a moment, giving Liebgott the chance to shake him off if this is too far, but when he doesn’t Ron pulls, dragging Liebgott’s head roughly forward, and Liebgott doesn’t choke or fight it, doesn’t even gag, just moans around David’s cock, setting off a chain reaction as David rolls his hips, soft ass pressing into Ron’s lap and Ron tightens his grip in response.

David has been waiting, uncharacteristically patient, all night and had already been giddy with anticipation when Ron left for the dinner hours earlier, so it doesn’t take long for his cries to take on the edge which is so familiar to Ron but unknown to Liebgott, whole body shuddering as he reaches satisfaction.

Despite the lack of warning Liebgott does well at swallowing him down, sucks David and keeps him shaking until Ron has to use his hold on Liebgott’s hair to pull him away, letting David slump against his chest while Liebgott gazes up at them both, looking uncertain as to what is expected of him now.

There had been a plan, but Ron hadn’t anticipated Liebgott’s initiative, much though he respected it, and David is going to need a little time before he can continue with the next part of what Ron had intended.

He could simply call the job done now, his test passed and his point made, but though David has been yielding to them both thus far at Ron’s request, letting his final challenge play out, Ron knows if Liebgott is to have him he should know even for Ron David is not always easy to handle and Liebgott had better be prepared to cope with what he demands. No, he’ll find some way to occupy them all until David is ready.

Ron drops his hand from Liebgott’s hair to his shoulder, frowns at the feeling of cheap fabric under his fingers, then withdraws. “Get up,” he commands. “And take that off.”

Liebgott obeys, standing and shucking his jacket before placing it on the free chair and reaching for his shirt. Intuitive.

One button at a time Liebgott bares his chest, all lean muscle with the bruises from his work blooming almost explosively across his pale ribcage. He shakes out of the sleeves, folds the shirt before he puts in on the chair, and Ron suspects that’s a deference to his perceived sensibilities because while Liebgott has surprised him in many ways it seems too unlikely Ron has misjudged him so badly to be now discovering he’s the kind of man who cares about folding dirty laundry.

It isn’t cold in the office, quite the opposite, but Liebgott’s nipples stand in dusky peaks and he shivers visibly as Ron’s eyes rake over him.

“All of it,” he encourages, gratified when Liebgott doesn’t hesitate to reach for his belt.

He’s slower now, the movements aren’t studied enough for it to be a deliberate tease but it functions as one nonetheless. Not so conscientious, he kicks his pants in the direction of the chair once he’s stepped out of them, and Ron is far too distracted to pay attention to see if they reach their mark.

The bruises trail down Liebgott’s hips and scatter across his legs, the right marked with a long silvery scar that runs the length of his thigh, stops just above the healing scrape on his knee. Dealing with the Russians has been visibly hard on Liebgott, but none of it detracts from his appeal as he stands before them, his cock jutting from his body, flushed a hot red with precum beading at the tip, already so close to dripping just from kneeling for them.

Ron can feel David straighten up at the sight, as he’d predicted. He’s never needed more than a little in the way of respite, will take whatever they can give him and beg for more, and Ron knows he won’t keep them waiting now.

He meets Liebgott’s eyes. “You want him?” Ron asks, running a hand over David’s thigh, and thankfully Liebgott nods minutely before Ron can slip and make the second offer that rests on the tip of his tongue.

He leans back in his chair as David stands and removes the remainder of his already dishevelled clothing hastily, the three-thousand-dollar suit nothing more than an inconvenient obstacle to be discarded on the ground.

Liebgott watches breathlessly as David’s lush form is revealed and Ron takes in the sight of both of them and cannot find fault with Liebgott’s reaction, not even when he reaches out and lets his fingers skim over David’s side without permission. There’s a smoothness to David’s flesh which isn’t found in men of their line of work and it calls out for the press of fingers and teeth to leave marks, Ron is not so unreasonable to expect Liebgott to resist what even he cannot.

David doesn’t wait for them to look their fill, reaching around Liebgott to clear space on Ron’s desk. He’s careless, brushing papers aside and sending a stack of ledgers crashing to the ground. Ron can see Liebgott tense, turning his head towards the mess, but David is quick to capture his jaw and reclaim his attention with a kiss, knowing full well how little Ron cares about trivial messes. He guides Liebgott gently, the press an extension of their kiss until Liebgott is backed against the desk, then he pushes him down onto the surface.

The thud of flesh of wood echoes in the room, loud enough that only an attentive listener could catch the slight gasp that escapes Liebgott at the same time.

He’s spread out like the most resplendent of offerings as David climbs after him to straddle Liebgott’s hips, his back to Ron and his knees planted firmly on the desktop.

“Web...” Liebgott’s voice is hoarse in a way that makes Ron pray he’ll be loud, because to sound so beautiful as that and not be would be a waste.

“Let me take care of  you now,” David responds, and then Ron hears the slick sound of fingers slipping between lips before David twists, glancing back over his shoulder at Ron, and presses those fingers inside himself, two, then three, quick and easy in a way that tells Ron he must still be a little stretched from Ron fucking him up against the wall of the shower before he’d left for work that morning - that or he’d got himself ready for this while Ron had been meeting with his men.

David’s legs are spread wider than Liebgott’s lissom form demands, and Ron suspects it’s for his benefit, the angle parting David’s soft cheeks and allowing Ron to watch as he withdraws his spit slick fingers, wraps them around Liebgott’s cock to guide it into him.

Ron palms himself as he watches. He’s loathe to lose control but Liebgott moans helplessly as David rises and falls, taking what he wants without hesitation, muscled thighs letting him set a pace Ron knows from experience to be brutal and overwhelming, and Ron is just a man.

David is a work of art, shapely in a way which came from hours of exercise working towards a perfect form but never having to use those muscles for anything more vigorous than this, the only marks on his skin are those which Ron has intentionally put there.

Liebgott hands raise from the desk to clutch at David’s ass with a white knuckled grip, fingers digging in hard enough that it will certainly mark. His pulling exposes David further so Ron can see his reddened hole, glistening with lube (confirmation as how he’d been occupying himself in their absence) as he bounces on Liebgott’s dick and Ron can restrain himself no longer.

He stands, hands settling on Liebgott’s pale thighs and spreading them open so he can step between them, leaning over David’s shoulder to watch Liebgott’s face as he does so.

Ron’s never seen an expression even close to this on him before, never seen this exact expression on anyone. The shock, the lingering disbelief, but most importantly, a beautiful awe.

He slides his hand up Liebgott’s flank, thigh to hip to waist, making certain to skirt the edges of the bruises and Liebgott follows Ron’s hand with his own, fingers stopping just shy of touching until Ron flips his hand, leaving his palm open in invitation.

It’s the tight clasp of Liebgott’s hand which finally breaks Ron.

He unfastens his belt with inelegant one-handed tugs. The first touch to his cock is electrifying, his own free hand enough to make him groan when coupled with the sight before him. He has to look away for a moment, fumbling until he can angle things to let himself press up against the join between them, tip bumping against David’s rim as Liebgott’s cock brushes his with every thrust.

The contact is sloppy, none of them fit quite right together, not yet, but it’s already so good and could be so much better.

“Ron?” David says, and there’s a hint of uncertainty in his voice as he finally drags his gaze away from Liebgott, turning his head until their faces are inches apart.

He knows what David is thinking, because he’s thinking of it too, of pushing just a little more until his cock is pressed up alongside Liebgott’s - David stretched wide open around them both. Ron’s seen the way he’s taken toys and he’s confident David could handle them but it’s not what they planned and right now he’s not sure any of them have the patience for the kind of prep David would need for Ron to consider actually attempting it.

“Just this,” Ron assures him, just being close enough to feel them, to watch Liebgott’s expressions, although he wouldn’t decline a rain check. He’s confident Liebgott wouldn’t say no to the suggestion of them both opening David up slow and careful until he was pliant and begging, spreading him out, then filling him with everything he could ever want until he was crying from pleasure and felt like what he was - nothing but theirs, a contentedly fucked out treasure.

There are a thousand other ways he’d have them both too, because despite impartiality he’d aimed for Ron can’t deny they are stunning together. David lush, the by-product of a life bathed in decadence, the perfect contrast to Liebgott’s wiry and battle-scarred form. And Liebgott, uncertain still but in the sparks in his eyes and the set of his jaw Ron sees a fiery potential, he’s pushed Liebgott to get him this far but there’s yet more to be uncovered there, he’s sure of it.

There’s no need to push now when things are already on the brink. He watches as Liebgott closes his eyes and when he opens them it’s Ron he looks at as he pleads, “--fuck I, sir, can I?”

For a long moment he’s uncertain what Liebgott is asking for, when Ron has already offered him everything he’d seemed to desire, but Liebgott keeps talking, gasps out, “Fuck... fuck... I can’t... I need--” and in the stutter of his hips and the way he sinks his teeth deep into his lower lip Ron sees a fight for control and realises Liebgott is waiting on his permission to let go.

He hadn’t thought to hold this particular privilege, but the notion of Liebgott so completely surrendered to his control without Ron even having to request it is a heady one. The prospect has potential, he’d like to see Liebgott beg, but that the power is freely given spurs Ron’s generosity.

“David?” he checks, doesn’t want to put too early an end on things when his boy has waited for so long.

“Yes, yes, please, I want to feel him,” David urges, and Ron can’t deny either of them this.

“Hear that, Liebgott?” Ron says. “You’re going to give him what he wants.”

A breathless pause, then, “Always,” spills from Liebgott’s lips as he finally abandons his control, and Ron has never seen such a perfect image of surrender, Liebgott arching off the desk as David wraps a hand around himself and follows him over the edge.

There's not enough friction rubbing between them for him to share their satisfaction but although he's kept David close since their first meeting the younger man hasn't been so readily available that Ron has forgotten how to make use of his hand.

He watches the hitch of David’s shoulders, the way Liebgott’s abdomen tenses in time with his gasping breaths until the sight gets too much and then Ron is coating the small of David’s back, cum spilling down his ass to drip onto Liebgott’s thighs. It’s more of a claiming than is perhaps appropriate when he had meant to surrender them to each other, but the reminder that they both are and always will be his eases his mind.

Brow pressed to David’s shoulder Ron gathers himself, the moment for vulnerability already fading, but he waits until David begins to shift with discomfort before he moves. He steps back, straightening himself up as David bends low to kiss Liebgott before climbing from his lap.

Liebgott doesn’t move from his position on the desk. He looks dazed, almost high, flushed from the tops of his cheeks all down his heaving chest to his spent cock still thick between thighs spattered with Ron’s cum.  Ron doesn’t take his men to bed, but he also didn’t get where he is by blindly following rules and to see Liebgott like this makes Ron wonder how things might have been if he’d damned the rules and pursued him years ago.

He ought to be David’s responsibility now, but David moves in a half-stagger from the desk and settles in Ron’s chair, sleepy-eyed and lazy from his second orgasm of the night and heedless of the mess he’s making, so it’s Ron who gathers up Liebgott’s discarded clothes and hands them to the man, who picks up the tissues from where they’d been knocked from the desk and carefully wipes away the mess David has made of Liebgott’s chest so the other man can dress without ruining his shirt.

Slowly some of the haze clears from Liebgott’s expression, he shifts all too fast from lust-blow eyes and a languid sprawl to tense and watchful. Ron backs up, giving him his space. His authority isn’t what Liebgott needs right now. Ron turns instead to David, who has half redressed but is still the picture of sin as he slips back into his shoes.

Ron isn’t sure what David sees when he looks up at him, but he narrows his eyes and then kisses him, slow and soft but without the aching sweetness Ron had seen blooming between him and Liebgott earlier that night. “Thank you.”

“There’s a car waiting,” he answers. He wouldn’t trust either of them to drive in their present condition, not when David is addled with satisfaction and Liebgott still looks like he’s just been hit over the head with a two-by-four. “Take him home and explain things to him,” and then, because while twice in one night and a quickie that morning ought to be enough to keep David satisfied for a while, Liebgott also makes quite the tempting picture, he adds, “In words. Make sure he understands what’s on offer.”

“Me?” David asks. “Or us?”

Sometimes Ron forgets just quite how clever David is when he isn’t being lazy. Despite his still flushed cheeks there’s something sharp and steady in his gaze, something that reminds Ron just how many of his tells he’s shown to David over the length of their affair.

“What he wants,” Ron confesses finally. “And don’t push him into an answer.”

“I’ll try to present the offer without bias,” David agrees, but the curve of his lips says he’s hoping for the same outcome Ron is. “I think he--”

Ron kisses him to cut off the speculation, doesn’t want to hear optimistic guesses before the offer has even been made. “Take the weekend,” he says when he pulls away. “Take him home tonight but tomorrow go... anywhere, just give him room to think.” This isn’t a decision to be entered into lightly, and David has never been close enough to the business side of things to fully understand what is at stake by complication Ron’s relationship with Liebgott.

“I’ll take the boat out,” David agrees. “But afterwards... you should talk to him too.”

Perhaps. But whether that talk will be personal or professional hangs entirely on Liebgott’s choices for now.


End file.
